


A Litany for Survival in New York

by bessemerprocess



Category: Anderson Cooper 360 RPF, Countdown RPF, Fake News RPF, Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF, The Colbert Report RPF, The Daily Show RPF, The Rachel Maddow Show RPF
Genre: Drug Use, FNFF SeSa 2008, M/M, One of My Favorites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessemerprocess/pseuds/bessemerprocess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon and Anderson circle around each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Litany for Survival in New York

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everysecondtues for the amazing beta job. This fic was written for Fakenews Fanfic's 2008 Secret Santa for missstewart.

For those of us who live at the shoreline  
standing upon the constant edges of decision  
crucial and alone  
for those of us who cannot indulge  
the passing dreams of choice  
who love in doorways coming and going  
in the hours between dawns  
looking inward and outward

"A Litany for Survival" Audre Lorde

 

"I want kids," Anderson says, and that is the beginning of the downward spiral.

"You're not even out," Jon replies, "and neither am I."

"We could come out together," says Anderson.

"I don't want to be the gay comedian," Jon says. Except if Anderson had asked yesterday if they could come out, Jon is sure he would've said yes, yes, yes!

"You wouldn't have to work," Anderson says, digging the hole deeper. It's a fight they've had so many times, Jon doesn't really even have to think about the words to say them.

"I'm not going to be your houseboy, Anderson," Jon yells. "Fuck you!" Jon flings the door open and storms out.

They tried again. Anderson apologized, promised things would be better. And the makeup sex was good, but it didn't last. It's the same argument over and over.

"I'll see you around," Jon says.

"Please, Jon," Anderson replies, but Jon just walks out the door.

***

Jon isn't sleeping with Stephen. Doesn't want to be sleeping with Stephen, because Stephen, for all his stage gay, is a zero on the Kinsey Scale.

Jon knows this, like he knows that if Stephen had even been a .5, Jon would've risked it all and made a play for him. Instead they flirt on stage and leave it there.

Fans ask them if they're together from time to time, even though Stephen is married. Jon thought to be upset on his behalf at first, but Stephen just brushed it off with a smile and a joke. He tells Jon that it means they have good stage chemistry, that the show will succeed. He's right.

It's odd. Stephen is always the one touching Jon, and Jon is always the one pulling away.

Jon never imagined that the job he took because otherwise he would get kicked out of his apartment at the end of the month would become the job that rockets him into the public's attention. He's richer than anyone needs to be these days and he wonders if it would have worked out differently between Anderson and himself all those years ago if Anderson had been poor or if he had been rich.

***

The boy bent over the coffee table is striking: tall, lanky, and all glammed out. Jon's sure he knows him from somewhere, but his face recognition is being overwhelmed by the pretty. That and the shear amount of coke on the table.

He's already been ditched by the guy who brought him; some pretentious richer-than-thou lawyer wannabe who thought hanging out with dirt poor comics and writers was edgy. He could just leave. There's no need to hang out with the slumming socialites and the coked out hangers-on, except it's been a bad day. He wants to get high and get laid, preferably in that order.

"Hey," he says and sits down next to the glam boy.

The glam boy looks up, rubbing the powder from his nose. "Hey."

Two lines in, the glam boy, who has asked to be called Andy, drags him out of the nondescript apartment and into a cab.

Even coked out of his mind, the boy behaves in the cab, which in Jon's opinion is wise but unusual.

In his apartment, it is a totally different story. Jon lets the boy rip off his clothes until he is naked and pushed up against the front door. The heat of the boy against his chest is odd compared to the cold metal door at his back. Soon, the boy is naked too, left only with eyeliner and a faint blush of glitter.

His tongue circles Jon's nipple, and Jon moans. "Hey, hey," Jon says trailing off into pleasure.

"Andy," the boy prompts.

It takes Jon a moment to figure out Andy wants him to say his name. That 'hey, you' might be a bit of a turn off. "Andy," he echoes back.

Andy trails his tongue down Jon's body.

Jon pushes away from the door. "Bed. Now," he says, and lets Andy drag him back to his room.

***

They see each other. It happens. They both live in New York, work in media, they were going to see each other.

They don't let on. Not even Stephen knows, which as far as Jon is concerned is a minor miracle. Stephen knows about the time when he was eight and, well, let's just say it's a story only Stephen knows.

They don't even let on when Keith Olbermann starts dragging them all out to lunch together. Being friends is odd and awkward sometimes, but since they weren't friends before they were lovers, this is new ground. A chance to start again.

Anderson still makes him laugh and has that crazy, ear shattering giggle. It makes Jon happy to know that the important things haven't changed. He wonders why Anderson never came out, never found someone and adopted the child he had so desperately wanted. They don't talk about that sort of thing though, and there isn't an opportunity to ask him even if Jon wanted to.

Anderson brings him cigarettes from Baghdad and gives them to him on national television. It makes Jon warm. He remembers smoking on the balcony of Anderson's apartment the first night they'd had sex, letting the slight chill of the New York air curl around his bones and looking out over the city. Anderson had joined him then, long fingers caressing the cigarette. He'd had brown hair back then, brown hair and sad eyes.

Jon's always had a weakness for sad eyes.

Back then, Anderson had been searching or running away or just ignoring his pain. Jon hadn't cared which. Back then, Jon had wanted to make people laugh, wanted to laugh himself, wanted good pot and good sex. Now he's an adult, or at least, as much as he's ever going to be, and sometimes he still thinks maybe all he wants is laughter and sex and pot.

***

"I'm Anderson Cooper," Andy says in the morning.

"Jon Liebowitz," Jon replies.

"No, I'm Anderson Cooper," Andy says, with extra emphasis on the first syllable, like Jon will know what that means.

"Um, that's nice?"

Andy smiles, like not knowing is better than recognizing his name on sight. "So, Jon, you have anything else to do today?"

"No," Jon replies. It's true, he doesn't have a gig or really anything to do except wander the streets of New York.

Andy nods. "Come on then, my shower is big enough for two."

Jon grins and follows Andy to the bathroom.

***

In the heady days after the election, Jon bumps into Anderson at a coffee shop. Jon hasn't been alone with Anderson since he walked away for the last time. They smile and shoot the breeze. Jon doesn't even think about it, he's just leaning in and kissing Anderson, like not a day has gone by since they were twenty and in love. Anderson doesn't object.

They don't talk about it, Jon just follows Anderson to the cab and Anderson's apartment. It's not the same one that Anderson had abandoned with Jon to go to Vietnam all those years ago. This apartment looks like Anderson let his mother pick it out, instead of the faux-impoverished Anderson had liked back in the day. It doesn't matter. It's not like Jon wants a tour, he wants to go directly to the bedroom, no stopping, no collecting two hundred dollars.

Anderson must be reading his mind, because he flips the deadbolt and drags Jon back to his bed. Which is neatly made, a feat which Jon can't seem to manage even with a housekeeper. Not that it matters, because Anderson has thrown him down on those smooth covers and is dragging Jon's shirt over his head to get better access for his tongue.

Anderson suckles on Jon's clavicle as Jon kicks off his shoes and shimmies higher up the bed, Anderson crawling after him. He licks a line up Jon's sternum only deviating to gently roll a nipple between his fingers. Jon moans, pushing down Anderson's jeans and boxers together. He rolls off Jon to finish the process and Jon quickly shucks his own pants while Anderson is distracted.

Afterward, Jon goes out to Anderson balcony. It's dark, but the city lights blaze around him and he breathes the cold New York air into his lungs. Last time he did this, he'd had a cigarette, and though it's been years since his last one, the craving still hits him. The noise of the traffic lulls and by the time Anderson joins him outside, Jon has sunk back into one of Anderson's patio chairs, and his eyes are half lidded.

Anderson sits in the chair next to him in companionable silence, watching Jon's breath form a trail in the dark air.

The last time they had done this, Jon hadn't even met Stephen, and Anderson could still ride the subway with out any one noticing him. Those days were gone, for better or for worse.

***

The post-it note says: Going to Vietnam. Will be back. Stay in the apartment, bills taken care of.

Jon flips it over, hoping for more information, but finds none. Andy does this from time to time, and Jon likes to think he knows how to deal.

And deal he does. A month goes by, and then three, and then six, and Andy doesn't come back. The thing is, Andy loves New York, loves the apartment, and Jon likes to think Andy loves him, but none of these things bring him back. He's never been gone more than three months before. Never not called after one.

Jon begins to worry that Andy is never coming back. That he's decided to abandon his family, Jon, and New York for a simpler life somewhere far away. Or worse, Jon worries that Andy is dead. That he's been killed by some wandering warlord, or by some disease that's easily curable in the first world, but fatal in the third. He wonders if Andy's body is in a mass grave, or a ditch, or if he's been buried in an unmarked grave by some farmers he had been helping when he fell ill.

Jon wonders if he'll have to be the one to tell Andy's mother, who probably doesn't even know her son has a live-in boyfriend, or if anyone will ever know what happened to Andy Cooper.

***

Rachel, of course, is the one who unravels their deception.

Except it's not really a deception anymore. They are friends. Maybe in the distant past they had been in love, but not anymore. There were many things they weren't anymore.

Jon is alone, and, well, Anderson may have Keith, if Stephen is right, but he doesn't know for certain. Anderson hasn't said anything about it, so Jon is assuming Stephen is off on another of his flights of fancy.

Rachel disturbs the rhythm that the four of them have. It's not that she doesn't fit or that's she intruding. It's just a settling in period; finding a new pattern.

It's obvious that Keith thinks she walks on water, that he's so damn proud of her that his chest might burst. Jon wonders if Keith has ever fantasized about sleeping with her and then quickly backtracks from that thought. Whatever Keith Olbermann does in the privacy of his own head should probably stay there.

"You've known Anderson for longer than you've known Keith or Stephen, right?" Rachel says out of the blue one day, feet propped up on the coffee table in Jon's office.

"What are you doing here again?" Jon asks to cover his sudden discomfort. What exactly does Rachel know?

"You know Anderson has a picture of the two of you. Back when you both had brown hair. You're sitting on a dock somewhere with your jeans rolled up, feet in the water."

Jon doesn't need Rachel to describe the picture. He remembers being there. He remembers how the water felt on his feet, how Anderson's lips felt on his neck. He remembers not catching a single damn fish, and he remembers feeling so in love that he couldn't keep the emotions off his face.

"Where?" Jon starts, but his voice hitches in his chest, and he has to start over again. "Where did you see that picture?"

"Anderson asked if I would come and spend some time with Molly since he's been a bit crazy lately, and I've been missing Poppy. I may have been snooping a bit. It was inside a copy of some John Grisham novel," Rachel explains. She continues quietly, "It looked like you were in love."

"Rachel..." Jon says, and he's not sure if he's trying to get her to shut up or if he's begging her to make him talk.

"Jon," Rachel says, and the words tumble out of Jon's mouth: "We were. God, Rachel, you don't really want to hear this. It was a long time ago and we don't talk about it."

***

Andy comes back from Vietnam, and there is no more coke. Andy comes back from Vietnam, and Jon doesn't really know who he is. It's been a year. Another day, and he would've filed a missing persons report or called Andy's mom or done something, anything.

Andy comes home and he's different. No drugs, no alcohol, no partying. Jon doesn't mind, he had stopped partying a month after Andy disappeared, he hasn't touched anything harder than pot in months, and Andy doesn't seem to mind the six-pack in the fridge as long as it manages to last longer than a week.

Andy is calmer now, more composed and thoughtful. Before, Andy never stopped to think, he'd just done. Now, they take walks in the park, and Andy talks about Sartre and recites poems by Audre Lorde. Andy takes him to plays on Broadway and cons him into going to see modern art. Jon falls in love with him all over again.

***

"When I first met Anderson, you have to understand, it was 1989. He was twenty-two, and I was twenty-six. Neither of us were out, obviously, but back then Anderson was doing some pretty heavy partying. I met him trying to score some coke," says Jon. "He wasn't doing so well either. I think he had a bit of a death wish. Coke, alcohol, unprotected sex. It's a fucking miracle that we made it out of the nineties alive."

Rachel nods, lets Jon continue.

"We got in a fight once, and Anderson went to Vietnam for a year. He left me a post-it note. I was living in his apartment by myself. He was just gone. He came back and he was a different person. He wanted kids. I wasn't ready to come out, let alone have kids with a man who'd never be able to stay out of the spotlight." Jon shifted in his seat.

"So I left. And then we were on again, off again, and Anderson just kept leaving, and I kept refusing to commit. The thing is, no one knows. Not Stephen, not Keith. I'm not even sure if Anderson's mom knew."

Rachel sits and listens, which Jon appreciates, because he doesn't need judgment or advice. He doesn't tell her about them now, because she doesn't ask and because, to tell the truth, he doesn't really know. Maybe they're back together. Maybe this is a relationship, or an affair. Maybe Jon is in love with Anderson again.

He wonders if it'll turn out any better this time.

Whatever he's thinking, it must show on his face, because Rachel pulls him into her, hugging him closer. "Oh, Jon," she says, and nothing more.

***

Andy comes back and Jon learns him anew. Call me Anderson, says Andy. Jon does, out loud at least. He thinks he would do anything for Andy, he's so in love. He's shattered to find out he won't.

"I want kids," Andy says. He's been hinting at it ever since he came back. That he'd come back for Jon and for a chance of a family. Of recreating what he has lost.

"You're not even out," Jon replies. "And neither am I."

"We could come out together," Andy says tentatively. Barely hinting at how much he hopes Jon will say yes. That Jon will be the one to fix all the holes in his heart.

"I don't want to be the gay comedian," says Jon, even though he knows it will hurt Andy, because he knows it will hurt Andy.

"You wouldn't have to work." There is desperation in those words.

"I'm not going to be your houseboy, Anderson. Fuck you!" Jon yells, blocking out the pain on Andy's face. He storms out, because what else can he do? He's young, just turned thirty, and he doesn't know how to handle this. He's not sure he'll ever know how to handle this, so he turns away, leaves, and doesn't see Andy cry.

***

In between, they grow up and go gray. In between, towers fall and the world changes. In between, they lose their anonymity and become famous.

Sometimes, Jon thinks nothing has changed. Anderson still has the same laugh, the one that makes Jon tell him jokes in public just to hear it. Anderson still runs away to foreign countries when he needs to think. Anderson still has sad eyes that break Jon into millions of piece.

Their love has changed, though, that first, fresh burst of need gone. Even the steady contentment of knowing each other's bodies and minds as they moved together in bed has past. Now they are old men and their love is a simple, sure thing. Jon will always be there when Anderson wants to run even if they never hold hands again. Anderson will always laugh when Jon needs to be cheered up even if he never places another kiss on Jon's lips.

***

Jon ends up telling the whole story to Stephen. He's never kept a secret from Stephen before, and he's not going to start now. He doesn't even leave out the part where he and Anderson have been spending nights, or rather, early mornings together for a month now.

"Oh, Jon," says Stephen, echoing those words of Rachel's that he couldn't possibly have known. A smile grows on Stephen's face. He gives Jon a quick hug and says, "Go tell him."

And Jon does.

 

and when we speak we are afraid  
our words will not be heard  
nor welcomed  
but when we are silent  
we are still afraid

So it is better to speak  
remembering  
we were never meant to survive

"A Litany for Survival" Audre Lorde


End file.
